


Be Our Guest

by areyoutalking



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Queen (Band)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Brian is the clock, Deaky is the candle stick, Eventual Romance, Freddie needs a chill pill, M/M, Roger just wants to read, What a great story this is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoutalking/pseuds/areyoutalking
Summary: Rogers father goes missing on his trip to the city, and he has to make a deal with an ugly beast to get him back.





	1. Forward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [americanithink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanithink/gifts).



_Not so many years ago, a horror had struck a young man. It was not an unfortunate tragedy, for the young man was selfish and possessed a heart of stone. He was a prince, born and raised to be a natural leader, but once his parents had died, the kingdom seemed to be a lost cause._

_The townspeople's’ money had seemingly vanished into the consumption of wild parties for the wealthy and the powerful, crime was scattering through the city like rats in a ship hull, people were dying of starvation and sickness._

_On a storm-bound night, an old woman came to the palace doors in a plead for shelter and a warm cooked meal._

_Her payment for this would be most pristine, delicate rose to ever be handed to the young prince. He had thrown the flower and told the old woman to look somewhere else for shelter._

_But this was no ordinary old woman he had sent away, for as a light shone from her cloak, a beautiful enchantress had emerged and taken the old woman's place._

_She cursed the prince for his selfishness, for her coming to the palace had been a test to see if he was really worthy of the throne. And if he was worthy of the body he owned._

_He became this horrible creature, mangled in fur and claws. He was kept away, along with his servants, in the now decaying palace. The only thing to break the spell was true love, the only thing keeping him so close to being human again was that tiny, little, delicate rose._

_His kingdom went into ruin, and it seemed like a hopeless life for the last of the Mercurys.’_

 

**5 years later**

Tucked hidden away in the lush, green hills sat a cozy little village bustling with life. People were just beginning to wake to the autumn day, and all was well. Mothers began breakfast, fathers went out to their jobs, and children went outside to play.

Bakers fired up the bread ovens, barbers began clipping away, fishermen baited their lines, policemen patrolled the streets in a casual manner.   

Weaving in between all the chaos of a working day, a blond-haired beauty blindly wondered his way through the crowd, his nose stuck in a book.

“Oh,” said Silus Crosley, the police chief of the small village. He tipped his hat cautiously and looked down to the boy with a seemingly disgusted look of wonder, “Hello, Roger. You’re looking well this morning." 

Roger Taylor looked up to the older man, an eyebrow cocked in suspicion and disbelief. He had known Crosley all his life, the old man had always seemed uneasy around him. Not that he cared, anyway. 

"Good morning, Mr. Crosley! How's Maria?" He asked cheerfully, nonchalantly going back to reading. Silus gave a gentle grin to the young boy. 

"She's just fine, thank you for asking." 

"That's fantastic, forgive me Sir, but I must be going," Roger stated, already walking away towards the small town's library without looking up from the pages. Silus sighed and shook his head, muttering on how much of a nut Roger was. 

While battling the crowd, Roger heard multiple good mornings being exchanged, some of them grew into conversations off to the side. Yes, it was a morning like any other... unfortunately.

A strong hand landed on Rogers' shoulder and spun him around, making him drop his book into the dirt in the process. In front of him stood the so-called 'town stud.' His lips were curled into a seductive smile, and his green eyes were looking down on the smaller man with want... Roger squirmed. 

"Why," He spoke smoothly, twirling a finger through Rogers straw-blond hair, "Good morning Roger, you're having a fine day I presume?" 

"Oh yes, Joshua," Roger smiled, reaching down for his book, "I'm having a fine morning," He finished, dusting off the dirty pages. This caught Joshua's eye.

"Now what have you got there?" He snatched the book out of the boys grasp and examined it. He looked so dumbfounded it almost seemed like he had never seen a book in his life. It would make sense, Roger joked to himself.  

"I believe it's called a book. Now, if you please excuse me I have to be going." Rog snatched his book back and continued down his path, smirking at the little gasp he got out of Mr. Stud. 

"Now wait a minute, Taylor! I wanna talk to you!"

"Well, I don't want to talk to you, goodbye." And with that, Roger stomped off towards the library, leaving Joshua and all spectators (there now seemed to more watchers than the population of the whole village) in shock.

Just for a recap, Joshua was the most adored man in town. His looks were the stuff of legend, his hunting skills were on point, and it seemed every single man and woman wanted him. Roger had no idea why Joshua fancied him, he was just a 'town nut' who was the son of the most cuckoo man in the country.

To top it all off, he  _read_. Oh, cue the dramatic music everyone, we got ourselves a reader here!

Roger huffed and shoved his way through the chattering sea of people and trudged on. The library was a modest little building with vines (it looked a  _lot_ like poison ivy) swirling all around the old red brick.

He relished the homey feel of his old building, it had nurtured him, helped him grow up with its bookshelves full of knowledge and stories. He just wished there was more, he had already read every single book in there twice. 

Pushing open the door, the young man felt instant relief, it was like a hug from a mother or settling into bed after a hard days work. It was cozy, the atmosphere filled with contempt. In the middle of it all sat at a desk was Thomas Kennedy, the 'book master' as Roger so affectionately called him. 

He was a feeble old man at the age of 78, his stringy gray hair was always a complete disaster, and his face was always a lost scowl. Oh yeah, he was blind too.

Both glassy eyes traveled over to the door, and he pushed his useless glasses further up the bridge of his crooked nose.

"Who's that?" He asked, turning his head from side to side as if he were blindfolded and was hearing strange noises, Roger chuckled and walked over to the old man. He grasped his wrinkled hand and brought it to his cheek. After a couple of seconds, the old man seemed to light up. "Ohh! Roger my boy, so good to see you!" He exclaimed. Roger gave a laugh and rubbed the old man's shoulder. 

"It's good to see you too, Mr. Kennedy! Just came to return my book and get a new one," He explained, and Thomas let out a scoff. 

"A 'new' book, you're a funny boy," he grabbed a stack of papers and held them out to Roger, "Look, I've been writing a story for you."

Roger took the papers and looked down to see nothing but pen squiggles, and he bit back a laugh. Shifting through the pages of nothing, he made approving noises to show interest.

"Oh, this is great, I can't wait to read it," He bluffed, but the old man didn't stop there. He wanted Rog to read it. "You want me to read what you put?!" he asked incredulity.

"Of course I want you to read it, lad! I want to hear how it sounds!" He smiled. 

"Uh, alright. 'Once upon a time, there was a little boy who loved to... sing! But sadly, he was made fun of because of his teeth, but that didn't stop him. He performed for kings and queens and soon became the most loved man in the land, the end.' That was marvelous, don't you think?" Roger smiled to the old man, who seemed lost. 

"Yeah... I don't remember writing that," He stated, confounded. Rog let out another laugh and put the papers in his trouser pockets. The old man grasped at his wrist, his expression looked thrilled. "Wait, I got something for ya!" 

With that, he reached down and opened his desk drawer and pulled out a book. Brand new by the looks of it. The cover looked like genuine leather, and the pages were not a dirty looking yellow color, they were actually  _white_ for once. 

"Oh my..." Roger whispered, and Kennedy pushed the book into his hands. 

"I want you to have this, lad. I got this last week from an old mate of mine, and I knew I'd have to give it to you the first chance I got!" He asserted, reaching up to touch the side of Rogers' head, "Keep this, it'll be more useful to you... in case you haven't noticed my predicament." 

Roger looked down at the title, the gold letters gleaming in the little sunlight that came in from the window. 'Snow White', it read. He hadn't read this story before, in fact, the only fairy tales he had read was 'Cinderella' and 'Sleeping Beauty.' He pulled the book protectively to his chest.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy, this means a lot." Roger blessed the old man, who grinned before playfully shooing him away to go read his new book. Roger did happily.

The walk home was not as exciting as the first walk, mostly because Mr. why-don't-you-marry-me-it's-not-like-I'm-a-conceded-prick-who-only-likes-you-for-your-looks wasn't around, but whatever. A walk was a walk, as his father would say. A walk was a walk.

Coming up upon the cobblestone walkway, Roger sighed tiredly and went about his day: feeding the chickens, getting the eggs, cleaning the house, that sort of thing. Ever since his mother had died twelve winters ago, his father had never let him out of his sight, that especially meant work. 

_'I can't lose you like I lost her.'_ His father would explain, putting on his most dramatic face and letting his eyes water, and Roger would huff and go about his day. They've been living off his fathers' earnings from selling items to major towns here and there ever since. 

What if  _I_ lose you like I lost mom, what if  _you_ die? A little hypocritical don't you think? Roger thought bitterly to himself. But, he loved his father, and if he wanted to control every single thing in his life until his sweet little Roger got married or he himself died, Roger could only let him do so. 

"Good morning Papa," he said sweetly, coming up beside his father tinkering on something yet again. His old, crow feet eyes were scrunched underneath his goggles, which made him look like a damn owl. 

"Good morning my sweet boy, how was town this morning?" He asked, smacking a gadget with a hammer. 

"Busy, as usual. Talked to Mr. Kennedy today, he gave me a brand new book, right off the wagon!" Roger exclaimed, handing the book over to this father. The older man studied it carefully before placing it gently on the table. 

"That was very nice of him, it's been a while since you've read a new book, hasn't it? I'll have to try to get you some once I go into Drawville for this round." 

Roger lit up at this. 

"Oh, you would do that for me, Papa? That would be fantastic!" He hugged his father tightly, and the old man smiled at his sons' excitement. 

"Of course I'd do that for you, my boy, I'm merely ecstatic that you love books so much. You know, your mother loved to read, I'm glad that you got that from her," he said fondly, and Roger pulled away before biting his bottom lip. 

"I think she'd want me to read? Don't you think?" He asked.

His father only nodded. 

Roger gave a reassuring smile and grabbed his book from the work table before hurrying off to the kitchen. He grabbed himself an apple and sat at the table to start his new book, he hadn't swallowed his first bite before a knock sounded at the door. 

He wasn't shocked to see Joshua standing with a nice suit- a  _new_ suit on and the cockiest smile he'd ever seen. He had to bite back the urge to slam the door in his face. 

"Hello young Taylor, it seems we meet again," Joshua said in a low, silk tone. 

Seriously? Roger thought.  _That's_ the best pick up line you've got? 

"Yes," He sneered, "It would make sense that we'd meet at my house." 

Joshua noticed the sarcasm, but he dismissed it immediately. Oh, he's not backing down this time. He pushed himself into the cottage and looked around, it seemed like he was seeing if it was worthy to hold such a great man like himself. The idea alone could make anyone's skin crawl. 

"Roger, it would appear that I have found myself fancying you for quite some time now. I look upon your beauty and I have a strong, heartfelt urge to make you my own. So, I come here to ask your hand in marriage." Joshua exclaimed, talking with a clenched fist like he was carrying a torch. Roger felt like throwing him off a cliff. 

"I'm sorry Joshua, but I'm afraid I don't feel the same," He said with every once of gentleness and calmness he had left. The older man seemed to find this news  _very_ shocking. 

"But Roger, I-but- just  _look_ at me, how could you ever dismiss something like  _this_? I can strangle bears with my bare hands, I could fight a hundred men without even breaking a sweat, think of how strong and gorgeous our sons will be! They'd be fine hunters!" He yelled, he looked like a tomato, he was so red.

"Our sons? Joshua, I want nothing to do with you, how could even say that we'd have children?!" Roger asked incredibly, but the other man rolled his eyes and yanked open the door. That's right you uncultured swine, run.

"One of these days, Taylor, you'll come to your senses, I guarantee it!" With that Joshua left, not without tripping over a chicken on the porch and falling into the pig pen below. Serves ya right,  _pig!_

Roger snatched his book off the table and ran out back, past his back yard, past the dark lining of trees, all the way to the highest peak of the highest hill. White and golden dandelions surrounded him, and with that, he plopped down and began to read his book. 

He was able to finish it and get home before sundown.  

 


	2. Father goes to town

Hidden away in his thick, blue quilt lay young Roger, dreading to get up. His muscles ached tremendously, the pain seemed to favor his biceps and calves.

So there he lay, procrastinating profusely, trying to reason with himself why he should or shouldn't get up. 

Today was the day his father was leaving from town. Not that it was that much of a surprise to the young man, the pain in his groaning bones surely proved that, but it was just he didn't want his father to leave. 

The last two days of helping pack the wagon with 'valuables' and such, his father seemed a little slower than usual. Like,  _a lot_ slower than usual. Granted, yes, the old man had bad knees from serving his time during the war-plus the wearing down of bone and cartilage from aging- but this was different. 

He looked utterly tired and pale, his nose a bright cherry red most of the time. Even while loading the wagon, Roger heard his father quote on quote 'hacking up a storm' inside the house. 

Today was the day his sick father was leaving for town. Great. 

Not really wanting to, Roger sat up, the muscles in the back of his thighs straining like the tightened strings of a violin. He groaned and ran a hand through his messy hair, his tight shoulders grinding against each other. 

Today was not going to be a good day. 

Swinging his long legs over the side of his warm, comfortable bed, Roger stood and arched his aching back. It gave a satisfactory crack and he groaned. After changing into some day clothes, the young man quickly ran downstairs to hopefully catch his father before he left. 

His father was hacking into a handkerchief once he got downstairs, and Rog could've sworn he saw blood staining the pale cloth. 

"Good morning papa," he said cautiously, and his father quickly shoved the stained fabric into his pocket and turned around, giving a large smile to his son. 

"Good morning my son, you're up early!" He exclaimed, pulling his son into a tight embrace and kissing his temple.  _What if this is my last hug from him?_ Roger shivered in his fathers' arms, it felt like a dead man was wrapped around him.

"Well... I wanted to catch you before you left, you're going to be gone for a long time."  _Probably forever._ His father pulled away from his son and ruffled his hair affectionately, oblivious to his fearsome eyes. 

"Oh, worry not my boy, three days is not that long! I'll be back in no time..." His words became slow, and his eyes seemed to droop. He looked a hundred years old, his pale skin looked brittle, as if the wind were to blow, he'd break apart. 

Cue the 30 seconds of constant coughing fits. 

The old man's legs had given out, and Roger was on the floor with him, clutching his wracking body protectively to his chest, tears threatening to spill from his large eyes. The hacks didn't subside in time enough for blood to start spilling out of his fathers trembling lips.

There was absolutely _no_ way Roger was going to let him leave, not in a million years. It was all starting to repeat itself, this was the same way his mother died. Sick, drained, blood peppering her lips and chin as she croaked her last words to him. 

_'I love you, my darling boy, always remember that.'_

What was his father going to tell him? 'I'm going to the city,' or 'I'll be fine, just need to catch my breath.'? There was no telling with him, everything regarding his health was a poorly spoken excuse. 

"Papa," Rog gently spoke after the lung rattles were over, and his father was panting heavily with a red face, "You're in no condition to go to the city this time. You need to rest."

His father wiped his mouth, shaking his head urgently.

"No no no, I need to go, we won't last long if I don't," He said, the sound of death rattling right behind his voice, Roger shivered again.

"Papa,  _you_ won't last long if you go," licking his dry lips, he barely had the courage to say this, "Let me go to the city this time,"

This was like blasphemy to the old man. His eyes became wide, and he began to shake his head even harder this time. Roger ignored this and continued with his explanation.

"Please, papa you must listen. If you go, you're going to die! There's no denying that! But if I go, you could rest and get better, because I will not stand by and watch you go on your last journey," he explained, his voice sounding more like a plead than reason. 

"Enough!" His father shouted, "I'm going, boy. And that's that. Now, get me my cloak."

"But papa-"

"Get me my cloak, Roger.  _Now."_  

Roger visibly deflated at his fathers words, he bit back his words of disagreement and did what his father asked of him. He stomped off to fetch his cloak, leaving his withering old man on the floor out of spite.

 _Go on then,_ he hissed to himself.  _Go off to the city and die, see if I care. Don't go on rolling in your grave when I get married off to someone who beats me or has their way with me for the rest of my life._

 Returning back to his now standing father, he merely tossed the piece of clothing and stormed off towards the stairs. His father did not find this amusing.

"What has gotten into you, boy?" He growled, swinging his cloak around his shoulders hastily. Roger stopped halfway up the stairs and spun around, fire burning in his large eyes. 

"When my sick father goes out on a dangerous trip to the city, I do not find it pleasing. If you die on this trip, I swear I will not mourn, because I warned you. I will not suffer because of your mistakes, I've already suffered enough from mother dying!" He spat, tears of anger and regret sprinting down his delicate cheeks.

Without another word, Roger raced up the stairs to his room, his sore muscles beginning to scream in protest. They seemed to be fine earlier...

He kept his back to the window, refusing to see his father leave.

Little did he know, his father was riding further and further into the belly of the beast.

They would soon see each other again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello darlings! Here's the second chapter. I'm terribly sorry for the long wait, I had tests to study for and things to do. I'm at school playing kahoot right now, so sorry if the last part sucks. 
> 
>  
> 
> I love all of you dearly, thanks for reading! <33
> 
> ~areyoutalking


	3. The Beast is found

 

 Wheezing his way through the woods down an old dirt path that had held his many numerous travels from the past, Michael Taylor slowly made his way to the city. Granted, he wasn't walking, but guiding a horse dumber than a pile of sticks was a difficult process.

He sniffed and pulled his cloak tighter around him, his young sons' words burning through his skull.

 _I am not dying. I'm perfectly fine, Roger's not going to lose me, not today_.

But his aching bones and burning lungs sang a different tune. He was getting old, he knew that, but he had to keep going, he had to be there for his son. Although... sometimes it felt like the other way around.

Roger was always doing the harder labor, taking care of the animals and the house, chopping wood, this and that. What was he doing? He was tinkering away at gadgets that refused to work. He was getting older, his son was getting older, and he hated it.

He hated the aches and pains, the smoldered energy of youth, the graying hair, the wrinkles, the everything. He hated watching his little boy become a man, he hated watching the way hungry eyes would look at his youthful skin, he hated the thought of his little boy marrying off to someone and leaving him.

The more he hated it, the more selfish he realized he was being. It was just... ever since his wife died, the thought of losing his son the same way was paralyzing. It was the plague epidemic at that time, and Roger had just been a small boy, too weak to fight off the disease. So once his wife started showing the incurable symptoms, he feared the worse.

He had to let her go once she began to look like death.

Roger had been sobbing rivers the whole time, clutching onto her dress, begging her not to die. She had weakly smiled at him, and as blood dribbled down her chin, she croaked his last words to him.

It took both Roger and him to get back to normal after that, but even then, it was never the same.

He started to tinker, he started to actually pay attention to the words in books, he started to think of alternate ways on seeing things. He started to watch over Roger like a hawk, not allowing him to work and slaving over the house all day. He knew that his son was dreadfully bored, he took after his mother in practically every way.

Michael smiled to himself as he continued down the old familiar path, dark times being drowned out by the happy times. He started to remember how fair his wife was, how much he loved her. God, she was so beautiful, so clever. A little queer, seeing as how she was the only girl in the village who read books.

They married shortly after they met, and within a year, Roger was born. God, he was the most beautiful the both of them have ever seen, his first infantile screams were like music to their ears.

Years passed, Roger got bigger. He was a lively little thing, always running around, getting into things he didn't belong in (as for example, Mr. Bildermens chicken coop). When times with him would quiet down, Winifred would sit him down and teach him the ways of words. The quiet times were always Michael's favorite.

He was yanked from his thoughts as the horse came to an abrupt stop, and he quickly tugged the reigns around his hand and looked to the path in front of him. A large tree lay dead in the center of the old dirt road, freshly fallen by the looks of it.

There was absolutely no way he could get this horse and cart over this thing, it was probably five times bigger than himself. Sighing, Michael weighed his options: go to the city, get money and Roger some new books, or-

His old eyes traveled over to the less worn out trail. It was a dark, twisted little road, but from what he could see, there were no obstacles to be found.

Maybe this could path could be a short cut he never knew about, or take him to a totally different city, bustling with life and different people to sell goods to.

Just because it's unknown doesn't mean it's scary.

Adjusting the reigns in his hands, Michael guided his stubborn horse towards the road, it hesitated, twisting its head against his pull of the ropes, but went anyways.

Only a mere hour had passed, and it seemed to be getting darker and darker the deeper and deeper the old man and his trusty horse went into the unknown area.

Michael did have to admit, even at his old age and maturity, it was rather nerve-wracking to be surrounded by nothing but dead branches and twisted shrubbery. The whole atmosphere of this place set a deep feeling of dread in the old man's stomach. But, pushing it down and keeping his head held high, he continued.

Coming up upon a clearing, Michael felt a little spark of hope ignite in his chest, and he snapped the reigns to go faster.

Big mistake.

The horse sped up, unknowingly destroying the neck yoke of the wagon in the process. While he ran off, Michael was left with a skidding wagon and no way to pull it.

This was just great. The old man cursed every word in the book, slamming his hands down on his lap. His anger made him have a coughing fit, so he had to calm down as soon as possible before he ended up in a wooden box.

He had to get out here. The sky was becoming a violent dark blue and howls of a nearby wolf pack could be heard. He hurriedly hopped from his cart, grabbing a large knife to bring along.

Trudging along the forest floor silently, Michael made his way quickly to the clearing, praying that there would be any type of sanctuary. Luck was on his side once he saw that glow from a faraway window.

His old lungs protested against the quick moving and trying to minimize his wheezing was becoming impossible, but he went on.

The closer he got he finally realized how far up in the night sky the light was. It _couldn't_ have been a star, could it? It was too big for a star, it looked more window-shaped anyhow.

His steps quickened, his heart thundered in his ears, and for the first time in years, he felt much younger. Adrenaline. Maybe the thought of actually doing something was exciting.

Once in full view, Michael would've gasped if he could at the sight before him. A castle. A large, forgotten, time-worn castle.

It was beautiful, with flowers creeping up the side of its crumbling walls, and oh, the architecture was absolutely gorgeous. It seemed like a very 'in-your-face' castle, and for a slight second, and shiver shot up Michaels spin as he thought of the Mercury dynasty.

He could remember the selfish brat of a king, ruining his own kingdom by doing everything wrong. But the boy died years ago, and ever since, the whole kingdom was swallowed up by the earth, only to have a name in history.

Who would inhabit the castle now? Some lost traveler or occupant who wanted to be by themselves?

That's a sad way to be, all alone, Michael thought to himself.

Cautiously making his way into the fortress, he gawked in awe at the condition of the place. Spick and span. Beautiful red carpets, paintings, furniture, you name it, it was there. Whoever was here definitely kept things ship-shape, because, why not? It was an opportunity of a lifetime to live in a castle.

He quietly wandered around the empty rooms, taking in the sights (and sizes) of the rooms around him. He finally came upon and fireplace in the middle of a cozy little study, and he kept his knife handy. Couldn't be too careful, mind you. 

They were light at first, but even Michaels old ears could pick up on the light whispering coming from corners of the room, he raised his knife higher and surveyed the room, seeing nothing but shadows of furniture casting against the walls. 

"Hello, darling," a deep voice said smoothly. Michael quickly twisted around, knife ready. 

His heart stopped as his eyes landed on the curled smile, filled with sharp teeth. Fur surrounded the mouth and basically covered the whole face of a terrible looking beast. It looked down at him like he was nothing but a small child.

And with that, Michael fell into an unconscious heap on the floor. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okie dokie fellas, next chapter is up. im so so so sorry it took so long, it's just i wanna make these chapter top quality, and sometimes its tough because hehehehe i get bad writers block. but hopefully, ill be able to work on this story more when summer is up and i am out of the hellish place we call school.
> 
> i love all of you with all my heart  
> ~areyoutalking


End file.
